"O that's nothing," said Fleda. "It will be all fun. I don't care how many times we have to come. You are very good, Mr. Carleton."
"Do you think so?" said he. "I wish I did. I wish you would make your wand rest on me, Fairy."
"My wand?" said Fleda.
"Yes you know your grandfather says you are a fairy, and carry a wand. What does he say that for, Miss Fleda?"
Fleda said she supposed it was because he loved her so much; but the rosy smile with which she said it would have let her hearer, if he had needed enlightening, far more into the secret than she was herself. And if the simplicity in her face had not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton would never have ventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew it was safe. Approbation she saw, and it made her smile the rosier; but the admiration was a step beyond her; Fleda could make nothing of it.
They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the day was wearing well on. At the spot where he had stood so long when they went up, Mr. Carleton paused again for a minute. In mountain scenery every hour makes a change. The sun was lower now, the lights and shadows more strongly contrasted, the sky of a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards the horizon. The scene said still the same that it had said a few hours before, with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "All things have an end thy time may not be for ever do what thou wouldest do 'while ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be children of the light.' "
Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minute motionless, and went down the mountain looking so grave, that Fleda did not venture to speak to him till they reached the neighbourhood of the spring.
"What are you searching for, Miss Fleda?" said her friend.
She was making a busy quest here and there by the side of the little stream.
"I was looking to see if I could find a mullein leaf," said
Fleda.